


To Remember

by gorgeoussimplehousecat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Lydia giving in to her emotions, Lydia loving Stiles, Memory Loss, Stiles loving Lydia, mushy mush, remembering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9448787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgeoussimplehousecat/pseuds/gorgeoussimplehousecat
Summary: When Lydia saw Stiles coming towards them and into the light, looking to her like the brightest star in any galaxy, it all clicked into place for her. On paper, she remembered every detail, but the meaningfulness behind every action and every word had been lost on her until she saw him in front of her. That was when it all came flooding back.OROnce Lydia remembers Stiles, she never wants to go back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In my wildest dreams, Jeff Davis will give me half the mush that's in this fic. Don't do me wrong, Jeff.

The thing is, before Lydia saw Stiles Stilinski, she really thought she had remembered him.

The pack had worked so diligently through the night, trying to scrounge up any faint memories that would trigger the reaction needed to bring Stiles—bring everyone back. It was almost comical, what they must’ve looked like, scoring over old yearbooks and smashing every tangible object in Scott’s room up to their noses— _“Why are we doing this again?” “Malia, for the last time, olfactory memory has some of the strongest connections to the hippocampus. Stiles must have touched something in Scott’s room, right? Right?”_ —desperate for any sign that they were on the right track to remembering arguably the most important person in their lives.

It was nearly 3 am before there was any positive sign of memory recall. The five of them—Lydia, Malia, Scott, Liam, and Noah—were trying a new technique that was ordinarily used while sleeping to help the sleeper realize they were in a dream. Lydia had remembered learning it—well, she couldn’t remember _when_ she’d learned it, as a matter of fact.

In any case, Lydia walked the pack through a remixed version of the meditation where they recalled an important aspect of one’s life. Assuming Stiles was as important to each of them as they believed, there should be at least one memory they each could mentally prod at until the true memory unraveled itself. A memory that originally had Stiles in it, and had since been rewritten by the Ghostriders.

Malia remembered first. She had more to work with, after all, as she had decided to focus on the fact that she knew Stiles must have been there to help her through the full moon.

Scott was next. Armed with the information that Stiles was in Lacrosse, he decided to focus on his first day of tryouts. He believed there was no way Stiles wasn’t there with him that day and, hadn’t Scott been so nervous? How did _that_ ever get resolved? Someone must have talked him down, encouraged him. Only he couldn’t remember whom.

Lydia, she was ashamed to admit, was last to retrieve a memory. But oh, what a memory it was.

Lydia could sleep soundly at night. She knew that sounded trivial, but it wasn’t that long ago that Lydia stayed up all night working through algebraic equations and painting little designs on her nails and anything else she could think to do to fill her insomnia-riddled nights. Lydia had never really been a good sleeper, but after being bitten by Peter and Allison dying, sleep was almost completely unattainable.

But Lydia knew something must have changed, because there was a gap in her memory and the next thing she knew, she was getting a solid 8 hours of sleep a night (not accounting for nights spent chasing evil beings, but, otherwise).

She was focusing and focusing and then it came to her in gasp.

“Stiles.”

The pack turned to her.

“Stiles, he…he used to call me. At night?” Lydia was remembering it as she was speaking, and it was then that she realized, looking up into a sea of faces that had no idea what she was talking about, that nightly phone calls from Stiles were something she had kept to herself. Not so much _to_ herself, she thought, as _for_ herself, really. Something sweet and untainted for her to keep for her own.

She wrung her hands together. “I never used to be able to sleep, after Allison, and everything else. I never told any of you. Actually,” Lydia said, remembering. “I never told Stiles, either. He called me one night at like 4 am when he saw I liked some post on Facebook, and of course he knew. He always knew.

“After that, he called me almost every night. I acted annoyed at first.” At this, she shook her head, a fond smile on her face. “Like I wasn’t completely grateful to have him telling me every dumb, mindless story that came to his mind until I’d fall asleep.”

“And now you can sleep?” asked Scott.

Lydia nodded silently for a moment before finally responding. “And now I can sleep.”

After that, it was easier for each of them to remember more and more details about Stiles, and how he had fit into their lives so snug. There were dances and sleepovers and locker room memories to get back, and slowly they did. By the time they were ready to go get Stiles from where he’d appear, the pack felt fairly certain that they had remembered Stiles in complete detail.

 

All of this to say, Lydia thought she remembered Stiles. She did, in a way. She remembered that very first late-night phone call, and every single phone call after it, for example. She remembered a story Stiles told her on the phone one night about scraping his stomach up pretty badly by falling out of tree and along the rough bark all the way down when he was nine years old. He told her he hid it from his dad for 7 hours, and it was the proudest moment of his life. “He’s the _sheriff_ , Lydia! That’s impressive, you’ve got to admit.” Lydia had laughed out loud, and Stiles had loved it. She had laughed again when she remembered it, partially because she was just so happy to finally be seeing Stiles’ face and hearing his voice in her mind.

But when Lydia saw Stiles coming towards them and into the light, looking to her like the brightest star in any galaxy, it all clicked into place for her. Yes, she remembered what he’d done and what he’d told her, but she hadn’t remembered just how it had all affected her. On paper, she remembered every detail, but the meaningfulness behind every action and every word had been lost on her until she saw him in front of her. That was when it all came flooding back. She remembered laughing at his story, but she hadn’t remembered how _good_ it had made her feel, smiling a real smile instead of one of the fake ones she’d plaster on at school (the ones Stiles always knew weren’t real). She remembered that she could finally sleep, but she hadn’t remembered that when she’d lain down at night after a phone call, the tension would drain from her body and she’d feel more relaxed than she had since the moment she’d woken up.

She remembered that she loved him, but she hadn’t remembered that she _loved him._

The realization shocked her like a live wire, starting at her core and working outwards, leaving a tingling in her extremities. She loved him. She really, really did. She had known it before Stiles was taken, of course, but the love had moved on her so gradually that it was already inside the deepest parts of her when she finally was able to acknowledge and accept the feeling.

The point, was loving Stiles was slow last time. She had time. This time around, it engulfed her all at once and _wow, that was a lot of emotion coursing through her veins right now._

Lydia didn’t know she kept it together enough to act like a normal human being like the rest of the pack when Stiles finally made it to them. It was still emotional, of course. Stiles had been stuck in that train station without an ear lent to him, missing his friends and family for weeks. There was much hugging and tears all around, but ultimately Lydia thought she did pretty well. She thought she probably acted like her world hadn’t been flipped right-side up again. Like now that she saw him after so long of not having him, Lydia wasn’t going to make sure not one thing ever went unsaid between the two of them again. Kudos, Lydia.

Parting ways that night, Scott had offered to stay at the Stilinski home, but Stiles told him to go home, knowing he wanted to be with Melissa. Lydia reassured Scott that she’d stay the night instead, and she’d be there for Stiles.

(She wasn’t doing it for Stiles.)

“Lyds, sorry I’m not so chatty right now. It’s amazing how tired you are after you don’t sleep for like 6 weeks straight,” Stiles said, sitting down on the edge of his bed. It was late, and the two of them had finally seen the sheriff off to bed, though not without a fight.

“Yeah,” Lydia said, walking into the bedroom after Stiles. “You can sleep. I just have to say one thing.”

Stiles looked up at her and watched as she slowly, composedly shut the bedroom door behind her and leaned against it.

Lydia breathed in one deep gulp of air before she raised her eyes to meet his.

“I remembered,” she said, breathy and almost silent.

Then she was across the room to him in three strides, Stiles already standing by the time she’d reached him. No qualms about her, Lydia through herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and shoving her face into the area where it met his shoulder. She breathed in deep, filling up her lungs with his scent. God, it felt like she hadn’t breathed in weeks.

“ _Stiles_ ,” she whispered. He was really here, in her arms, in his bedroom. They got him back. They did it.

Stiles rubbed her back soothingly. “I missed you, Lyds,” he said into her hair.

“No, Stiles. _I_ missed _you_ ,” Lydia responded, pulling her head back enough to stare into his eyes. She needed him to know.

“Yeah?” he prodded.

Not holding back any longer, Lydia grasped his mole-freckled face in her hands. “God, yes, Stiles. I missed you before I even knew you were gone. I could feel it somewhere in my chest, empty and just _missing_ you.” She rubbed her thumbs gently over his temples. Lydia couldn’t believe all the things she could bravely do now, knowing she’d never want either of them to disappear again without having done them. She felt so free.

“And then some memories came back for all of us. I remembered how you used to call me at night to help me sleep. Do you remember that?” she asked.

Stiles was looking at her in awe, and it took him a second to catch up and nod. “Yeah, of course I do.”

“Stiles, I never thanked you for doing that. It meant so much to me that you would stay on the phone with me when I was wide awake, even when I could hear you yawning on the other end. Thank you, Stiles,” Lydia reverently said.

The dry gulp Stiles emitted was anything but silent, and Lydia felt his fingers tighten around her waist where his hands had lowered. He gave the slightest of nods.

“Stiles, I _remembered_. I remembered you and everything _about_ you and the way you made me _feel_ and—" Lydia cut herself off with a kiss to Stiles’ forehead.

“I remembered,” she said, planting another kiss to his cheek.

“I remembered,”

“I remembered,”

“I remembered,” and with each repetition, she planted a soft, worshipping kiss to a new area of his face. With each kiss, Stiles let out a little gasp of air; it reminded Lydia of being splashed with cold water.

Then, whispering with not an inch between their faces, “I’m sorry I ever forgot you, but I remembered you, Stiles. I remembered I love you.”

And then it was like Stiles really had been splashed with cold water, because his frozen frame came undone, and it was pushing Lydia forcefully up against his bedroom door, protecting her head with a hand cradled behind it.

The first kiss he landed on her was fierce and loving and everything Lydia Martin would’ve bet money on that Stiles kissed like. As her lips moved against his without a second thought, Lydia was mapping in her mind all the differences between this kiss and the one she took from him by surprise that day in the locker room. His lips were still just as soft, but his hands were gripping her at her hips so tightly this time around, and Lydia was relishing in every bit of it.

She wasn’t used to Stiles being this quiet, and god knows she’d missed his voice while he’d been away. She ran her nails across his scalp and licked into his mouth to hear him groan out, “ _Lydia_.”

“Stiles,” she practically whined out, moving to place wet kisses just under his jaw.

“Lydia,” Stiles said again, his hands moving underneath her shirt and along her back. “Lydia, I _love_ you. Oh, my God, I love you.”

“I love you, Stiles,” Lydia whispered back for his benefit, knowing he’d never get tired of hearing it. Lydia was starting to think she’d never get tired of saying it either.

Lydia’s hands had begun to wander down his stomach and down just further still, when her lips, which had been going in for another deep kiss, morphed into a poorly concealed yawn.

“Lydia,” Stiles said, an affectionate smile on his face that reached all the way to his eyes. It was the best thing Lydia had ever seen.

“I’m good, Stiles,” Lydia insisted, smiling back.

Stiles hands grasped hers from where they had rested on his body, bringing them to his mouth to tenderly kiss them both. He spoke into the delicate palm of her right hand. “Let’s go to bed, huh, Lyds? We’ve had a long day.”

Panic flared up in Lydia, and she tried her best to stifle the effects from showing on her face. “No, Stiles. Let’s stay up. I missed you so much.”

“Lydia,” Stiles said, inching them towards his bed. “I promise you I will be here in the morning.”

Lydia’s eyes searched his, disclosing to him all the emotions happening within her at the moment, something she was sure she’d never done before. “Stiles,” she finally admitted. “I just got you back.”

Pushing her gently onto his bed, Stiles tucked Lydia in next to the wall and under his flannel covers.

“Okay,” Stiles relented after a moment. “We can stay up.”

“Yeah?” Lydia said, smiling up at him with a pair of drowsy eyes.

Stiles replied, “Of course, Lydia. Anything you want,” as he got himself under the covers next to her. Her body immediately curled into him, seemingly without her control. Lydia didn’t mind.

“Hey, Lydia,” Stiles said after a moment. “Did I ever tell you about the time Scott and I accidentally stole the neighborhood bully’s scooter?”

“No,” Lydia’s breathy response came.

“Well,” Stiles went on, gently carding his fingers through the hair above Lydia’s ear. “It’s quite the story.”

 

In the morning, when Lydia woke up in Stiles’ arms, firm and solid and _there_ , she decided the only thing better than falling asleep with Stiles on the phone was falling asleep with Stiles next to her. If she played her cards right, she might be able to do it for the rest of her life.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr, gorgeoussimplehousecat !


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